Page 53 of A Game of Scandal

“None at all,” Mrs Finch said serenely, not a hair out of place. She looked as though she were returning from an afternoon tea party.

“Mine didn’t seem interested in flirting with me.” Maud examined her fingernails. “But he let his guard down enough to make it easy to knock him out. And maybe I know why we didn’t recognize him – he had an accent. French.”

“Interesting,” Sylla said, and she filled the others in on what we had uncovered in the warehouse.

“Laing is working with the anarchists?” Maud frowned. “He hasn’t shown any leanings in that direction before. Not as far as we know.”

“If what Izzy suspects is true and Laing is a killer for hire, then it’s more likely that he has been employed by the anarchists to help them carry out some scheme,” Mrs Finch mused. “Presumably a bombing.”

“On a large scale, if what we saw was any indication,” I said, feeling a chill creep into my bones again. It had been easy for a moment, to forget the severity of the situation we were in, but this scheme had the potential to hurt a huge number of people.

“We’ll talk it all over when we get to the Aviary,” Mrs Finch said. “It seems it’s time to increase our efforts where Edward Laing is concerned.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

When we returned to the Aviary, I went over what I’d seen in the warehouse several times, and wrote down everything I could remember for Winnie to look over later. After that, it was clear I was surplus to requirements. It was time for the Aviary to make plans.

“I’ll have a carriage take you home,” Mrs Finch said in a tone that invited no arguments. “We’re always here if anything else happens. In the meantime, get some rest.”

A hackney was waiting for me outside the shop, and I clambered inside. Despite the fact that I was bone-tired, my brain refused to quiet, the excitement of the evening still buzzing through me, a hundred angry bees in my bloodstream. I fidgeted against my seat, my mind running swiftly through the possibilities, turning over everything I had seen and heard. I was so distracted that at first I didn’t notice we were headed in the wrong direction.

I knocked on the roof of the cab. “Excuse me,” I called. “We’re going the wrong way. We need to head for Grosvenor Square.”

There was no response. The carriage only picked up speed, bumping over the uneven surface of the road.

“Hey!” I shouted louder, banging on the roof as hard as I could. “Stop at once. You’re taking us the wrong way!”

Again, there was no reply.

I knew in that moment of ominous silence that something was very wrong. The cab hurtled faster and faster down the road, and we took a corner at a speed that had the whole carriage swaying wildly.

I gave up banging and crawled to the window, leaning out and twisting as best I could to see the driver. They were nothing more than a dark huddled shape up on the box, but given the size of the figure, I was sure the driver was a man – not someone who worked for the Aviary.

“Are you trying to kill us?” I yelled. “Stop this carriage right now!”

“Shut yer mouth,” was the answer I got, yelled over the rattle of the wheels. “I got my instructions, lady, and you ain’t going to Grosvenor Square.”

I might not know who the man was, but I was sure who he worked for. There was only one person who would kidnap me from outside the Aviary’s front door: Edward Laing.

Willing myself to remain calm, I sat back down in my seat. The carriage rattled relentlessly, and it felt as though my brain rattled along with it. What could Laing want with me now? Was all of this because I had refused his proposal? That seemed unlikely, given how certain he’d been of changing my mind. I turned the problem over. Did he know that we had been to his warehouse? If my connection to the Aviary was the reason for this rash action then that was even worse, because it was more than possible he hoped to use me against them in some way. My heart sank. Izzy would do anything to keep me safe.

I had tried all day to find answers but everywhere I turned there were more questions. The only thing I could be certain of was that I was in danger.

There was no sense in panicking, I told myself sternly. I would not sit here and allow myself to be abducted. I wasn’t about to become a pawn in Laing’s game or to let him use me against my friends. I might not be a true member of the Aviary, but I was no mouse. I’d made plenty of my own daring choices recently.

Leaning out of the window once more, I knew we were driving too fast for me to escape unharmed by simply jumping free of the carriage. I calculated the odds of serious injury and they were decidedly not in my favour.

The sensible thing to do would be to slow the carriage enough to effect an escape. I tried to pinpoint where in the city we were and thought we were headed south. I gnawed on my lip, looking about the carriage. The space was empty, a dark, shabby cab like any other. I ran my fingers across the panels of the wall but found nothing useful.

Standing as best I could, I turned my attention to my seat. The upholstery was ripped in several places and, for lack of a better plan, I dug my nails into the torn black fabric, pulling it further back. This revealed the innards of the cushion, and I tugged until I held the small horsehair pad in my hands. Underneath were a collection of springs, but I couldn’t see any use for them.

The most logical way to slow the carriage would be to tamper with either an axel or a wheel at the best possible moment – when we were slowing for a corner, perhaps. The axel was not something I could access, but perhaps a wheel… I glanced out of the window again, wishing I were more familiar with the area. Then I noticed a road I did recognize from my own night-time adventures. We were, in fact, not too far from the Lucky Penny – a place where I knew I’d be safe.

Whatever I was going to do, I needed to do it soon. There was a turn coming up that would require the driver to slow down at least a fraction, and it was probably my best chance at escape.

Reaching into my pocket, my fingers closed round something cool and hard. In the excitement of the evening, Sylla’s pistol had been forgotten, but now it presented all sorts of opportunities.

I could wait for the carriage to stop and threaten the driver with a gun. The problem with that was twofold. Firstly, I wasn’t at all sure I could go through with shooting someone, and secondly, there was every chance the place he was taking me would contain more thugs – any of whom could be armed. Escaping the carriage while in motion remained the best plan. I looked out of the window again, towards the box, and then back at the wheels. I wouldn’t be able to shoot the driver from this angle even if I wanted to, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of shooting at the horses, but perhaps I could destabilize a wheel enough to force us to a stop. At the least, it would slow us down.